Page 94 of Bean
“Yes, you do, Bean. I’m sorry you can’t see that, but you do.”
I was still sitting on his lap and his legs had to be numb by now. Not that he would ever complain. Clumsily, I scrambled to my feet. He followed my example, though slower and not without wincing.
“Fuck, I’m not twenty anymore,” he groaned, stretching out his back.
I opened my mouth to tell him how sorry I was, but he held up a warning finger. “Don’t you dare apologize.”
“Can I say sorry for hurting you?”
“Sure, but I told you it was an accident. You were clearly not yourself, and I got in the line of fire.”
My shoulders hunched. “I hate these anger attacks.”
“I know, and I can’t even imagine how frustrating they must be because they aren’t who you are, Bean. You’re not that angry, bitter person.”
“Maybe I’m turning into one.”
“We won’t let that happen. I promise.”
I hung my head. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to get over Jarek.”
He put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “At least you’ve found your answer as to whether you loved him, huh?”
I nodded. “I even made a whole list of why I didn’t love him, just to play devil’s advocate, but when I went through it, I could refute each and every single one of those reasons.” I shook my head as despair filled me all over again. “I had him, Nash. How did I lose him? What did I do wrong?”
“I wish I could tell you, but I’m as baffled as you are.” He tilted my chin up and met my eyes. “But, Bean, it has to be some kind of stupid misunderstanding because that man loves you.”
Hope fluttered in my heart. “You think so?”
“It was clear from the way he looked at you, with pure hearts in his eyes. He loves you, so don’t give up just yet.”
“But what do I do when he won’t even respond to my texts?”
Nash scratched his chin. “Maybe guilt-trip him and tell him he at least owes you an explanation?”
Hmm, I could do that. I dug up my trusted notebook—which was almost full, so time to get a new one—and made a note to text that to Jarek later. “I need to order a new notebook.”
“I got you covered. I set up an automatic order, so your new one will be delivered tomorrow.”
On impulse, I hugged him, and the relief when those strong arms came around me was intense. “Thank you, Nash. For everything.”
“You’re so welcome, kid.”
When he stepped back again, I checked the bruise on his chin. “I’ll do your laundry for a month. I owe you that much for hurting you.”
He shrugged. “You don’t owe me jack shit, but hell if I’m gonna say no to your offer. I hate doing laundry.”
“I know.”
He rubbed my head affectionately. “Go text your man and then get some sleep, kid. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? What was happening tomorrow?
“We’re traveling to Maryland to see that professor so he can run some tests on you,” Nash said before I could ask. “Check page 95 in your book.”
Okay then. Apparently, I was getting on a plane…with the man I’d almost knocked out cold. Nash was a saint.
I was usually exhausted after an anger outburst like that, and this time was no exception. I slept for most of our flight toChicago, then watched a movie for the second part to Baltimore. Nash had rented a car, and after landing, he drove us to a hotel in Bethesda, a DC suburb. By the time we got there, I was wiped all over again, and I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.